Peppermint
by LauLizS
Summary: Though my face is hot, my lips feel odd, cool in the literal way. I lick my lips, remembering the taste. A grin tugs at the corners of my mouth, and I look down. Of course Hermione Granger would use peppermint lip balm.
1. Chapter 1

I'm staring at her.

For no good reason, too. At least, I can't think of any meaningful answer at the moment.

She's sitting along under _my _favorite tree by the lake outside. Her back leans against the trunk, and there are papers and scroll, books and and quills with ink bottles to match sprawled around her in seemingly random, but (knowing her) probably strategic places. As far as I can tell from my position a good twenty feet behind on a stone bench, she's doing absolutely nothing.

I scowl, wondering why she has to be in _my_ "I'm going to do as much as a Hippogriff's crap" spot doing _less_ than a Hippogriff's crap. It's my place for lazing around, and she has no right to take it. Besides, I thought it was physically incapable for Granger to be surrounded by learning material and _not _study.

I see her heave a sigh, pulling her hardly manageable hair into a ponytail, but a few strands fall out of the rubber band almost immediately. She picks up a quill and dips the tip in an ink bottle; she leaves it there while reading something, then lifts it out with a flick to write something down.

I think about sauntering over and reclaiming my spot, but I just sigh harshly and lie down on the uncomfortable and too-short bench.

Times like these is when a man needs his lazy tree.

I roll off the bench purposely, hoping grass is softer than granite.

It is, somewhat, but it's just not the same. I'm tempted to roll down the hill to the edge of the lake, or maybe the other side of my tree, but Malfoys do not roll down hills. It's degrading, and makes one look ridiculous.

So I pull myself to my feet and wander to my tree. I plant myself on the side of the tree that faces the castle; the side opposite Granger.

I hear her mutter incoherent ramblings to herself, and I actually find it soothing; unlike the irritating buzz I would have assumed it to be.

I lay on my back to stare up at branches and red and orange and yellow leaves. Fall has just begun, along with the school year. It's finally my last year at Hogwarts, and I hope to hell it's calmer than the previous years. I was pulled out last year for reasons concerning my father's need to kiss the Dark Lord's ass by offering me up as a slave to do his dirty work.

Um.

Yeah.

Anyway, I was surprisingly excited when I was boarding the Hogwarts Express about coming back to this damned place. It's almost like home here, except maybe better. For God's sake, I've lived here for six years of my life! Excluding summers, of course.

I mean, it _is_ school, and school's a drag, but here I can pretend my life wasn't all that effected by the war. I'm fooling myself, I know. I swear a whole layer of who I was was peeled off slowly an painfully over the last two years selectively.

Not that I'm admitting it to anyone, but I'm not half as proud or strong as before. Not that I'm admitting it, though, like I said, but after the Malfoy name was discolored by my and my father and mother's acts, well... it's hard to be left proud of a father in Azkaban (and with a life sentience) and a mother that barely got by (the same goes for myself) and a constant reminder of the deep shit I'd gotten myself into via the Dark Mark permanently burnt into my skin.

Aside from that, I'm determined to have the best school uear I've ever had, just to prove to myself I can.

I close my eyes slowly, then take a deep breath. A loud, sharp groan from the other side of the tree makes me jolt up to a sitting position in surprise, eyes opening automatically.

"Why is ink _so damn spill-able?_" Granger asks irritably. I hear her mutter a spell, probably to clean the mess she inevitably just made.

I resist both the urge to chuckle and to ask her what has her knickers in a bunch, and lie back down. Little bits of sunlight peek through the leaves of the tree, this being its only downfall, and fall into my eyes. I throw an arm over my eyes, not caring enough to actually move out of the offending light.

Another shriek comes from the other side of the tree and I'm forced to ask, "What now?" to the air.

Apparently, she hears me, though she wasn't necessarily intended to, because there's a short silence, followed by a pair of dull brown eyes peering around the trunk. It seems in her frustration, she didn't hear me rustling around in the grass.

"Oh, sorry," she says, her cheeks turning a delicate shade of pink. "I didn't realise anyone was there..."

My arm slides off my face, and I raise my eyebrows up then down once quickly in response.

"It's just..." She flops to her back, so from where I am, I can only see her head and shoulder. It looks like she's about to dump whatever's on her mind on me. Wonderful.

"I know you don't care in the least what I say," she starts. It's true. "But would you mind too much if I rant to you about things _not_ concerning you?"

I prop myself up on my elbow, facing her. Resting my head on my hand, I say dully,"If you're going to anyway, you may as well start now. Just one question."

"What?" She looks skeptical.

"Why not rant to Weaslette instead of your fine arch enemy?"

"She knows practically everything already," Granger says with a shrug. "But it's all bubbled to the surface again, and I need to get it out, or I'll never get this moronic _four page_ essay on the importance of mid-eighteenth century Dementors and how they've changed since. It's so aggravating, though, because they haven't changed all that much, and I've hardly one page down, and I'll never be able to finish the last three and a quarter if my mind is so clouded."

"Isn't there a spell for de-clouding one's mind?"

"There is?" She cocks her head t the side,

"Isn't there a spell for pretty much everything?"

"There may be... I can't believe I didn't think - I'm going to the library. Watch my things, please."

"Hey, what?" But she's already running to the castle. I don't want to watch her crap. This is my lazy tree, therefore I do nothing underneath it! I go and lie in the middle of her things nonetheless, and close my eyes again.

I must've fallen asleep, because the next thing I'm aware of is Granger screaming at me about her papers being blown all across the universe.

"I couldn't trust you to do _anything_," she's grumbling, picking up things the wind took at most fifteen feet from their original spot. "... idiocy... Ferret... Can't do anything..."

"As high strung as ever, eh Granger?"

"Well, wouldn't you be if you were me?"

And it approaches.

"Um -"

"I mean, Ron seems like he doesn't want to commit to anything at _all_ between us, so I told him I was sick of his crap, so suddenly he's saying he _does_ want to be with me. But _then_ he goes and makes out with some random girl in a pub! And then there's Ginny, who's always either sighing and talking of Harry dreamily, or in a horrid mood and cursing Harry and almost everyone in sight to the deepest pits of hell. So she's not the easiest to talk to lately.

"_And_ I'm behind on homework, and I fell asleep for the first time in history in Ancient Runes and lost twenty-five point, and -" She throws her papers down by the base of the tree and plops down next to me. "- school's only been going on for two weeks, and I think I've only gotten two hours of sleep since it started."

"Are you finished?" I ask in a bored tone.

She has to think for a moment. "Yes," she decides with a nod. "I'm finished."

"Good." I close my eyes. Again.

I can feel her shift so she's lying next to me.

"Sorry," she mutters bitterly, "I didn't mean to waste those precious minutes of your life."

"I didn't say anything!" I almost laugh.

"You were thinking it."

"We really are in a bad mood, aren't we?"

"Well," she huffs, and I can almost hear her pouting.

"This isn't the Hermione Granger I know," I mumble sleepily.

"Don't you have someone to hex, Malfoy?" she asks sourly.

"Not that I know of." I put the arm opposite Granger (my left arm) behind my head and kick off my shoes.

"Can't you just leave me in my state of unhappiness?" she asks me.

"My tree. I'm staying."

"This is not your tree, Ferret," she snorts.

"It is," I say, "unofficially."

"I'm staying too," she tells me stubbornly, pushing off her shoes as well.

"Whatever she of dirty blood sees fit," I say, uncaring. I doze off again, and have a short, odd dream. I swear it's of ducks with mustaches, but when I awake, it's too blurry in my mind to be sure.

Granger is still, unfortunately, next to me, and she seems to be in peaceful sleep. She's in the fetal position facing me, and the fingertips of her right hand reach over and rest on my arm. Other parts of her almost touch me.

I don't move.

I can't believe I'm actually worried that if I do move, I'll disturb her. But only because she needs sleep. Because she might come after me with the woes of her life again if she doesn't get sleep. Not because I care about her sleeping patters, obviously.

She has inadequate problems, really. If only I were to rant to _her_ about all the things wrong with my life. That'd make an interesting couple of hours.

Granger makes a small moaning noise, and nuzzles her head unconsciously into my shoulder. Her hand forms a tighter grip on my arm.

I frown.

I really can't move now.

With a sigh, I think of how I _do_ have homework that needs to be done sitting on my bed in the Slytherin dorms. But it's not due until tomorrow, and if I sleep now, I'll be awake enough to do it later tonight.

Contented with this, I allow my eyes to flutter to a close, and let myself drift back to sleep.

The next time I awake, the light outside is dimming. I check my watch; it's eight o' clock. We had to have been sleeping for at least three hours...

I'm on my side now, facing the girl beside me. She's in practically the same position, except this time her head is buried in my chest.

This feels right...

But wrong. Really wrong. Honestly, why am I letting this Mudblood stay cuddled up against me?

Because she's soft and warm and smells nice.

Shit.

Even so, I wonder how we even _got_ in this position.

Obviously, we were sleeping (and Granger still is), and we didn't know what we were doing. Therefore, the way we... _are_... was done completely unconsciously and is entirely coincidental. After all, we fell asleep next to each other, and as it is getting chilly outside, it would make sense that we would be drawn to the only other source of warmth around us.

That'll do.

A part of me doesn't want to move.

And I don't.

I'm thinking I should wake Granger up so she can get in before curfew, but, of course, what fun would that be?

And I think curfew at eight is pure stupidity, so I always extend my personal curfew to ten. If I'm caught, it's easy to explain how I thought for seventh years, curfew _was_ ten.

Besides, if I'm found sleeping under a tree, obviously I fell asleep before curfew so it's not like I knew...

Ah, excuses.

What fun.

I decide to simply shut my eyes and see what happens.


	2. Chapter 2

Sometimes I wonder how stupid I can be.

1. After sleeping the entire night on the ground, of course I would be sore.

2. I still have undone homework due later today.

3. Granger is going to freak out in my face because she never finished her essay, and it's my fault because I didn't wake her, and blah, blah, blah.

4. It's dawn. Whoops.

I blink, yawning quietly. The sun is just starting to come up, and I assume it's somewhere around 6:30 in the morning.

Granger's on her back with an arm over one eye. Both her knees are bent slightly, aimed at me. She's not touching me anymore, thank God, but this time I'm on my side, facing her, with my hand on the back of hers. What the hell? I pull it away slowly, frowning. I still don't understand how one of us keeps ending up touching the other.

I suppose I should wake Granger, but I'm almost afraid to. I'm not in any kind of mood to have her blow up anyplace near me.

Nevertheless, I sit up, feeling... moist. The grass is damp, and I'm assuming it drizzled last night, but not enough to wake us.

"Alright," I say out loud with a groan. I push the hair out of my face. "Granger," I mutter lazily, "you must awake from your slumber in the outdoors."

I shake her shoulder. She only moans at me, hitting my leg, not caring.

"Oh my God!" I shout, switching tactics. "You're late for class!"

She springs up suddenly, with a, "_What?_" She blinks. "Where am - Malfoy! What's the time?" she yells at me. "Oh, God, I still have to write -" She almost screams. "My papers! They're all _wet_! What the bloody hell happened?! Did we sleep out here all _night_? My God, why didn't you wake me up?"

"I just did, didn't I?" I rub my neck irritably.

She stuffs her things in her bag and bolts to her feet.

"Damn it," she growls, "I'm so sore..." She rolls her shoulders, cringing. She looks down at me. "Are you coming?" Granger asks impatiently.

I stand grudgingly, mumbling, "It's daybreak."

I follow her back to the castle through the courtyard, a scowl plastered on my features.

By now, you may be wondering; why, Draco, where's your normal witty self? You haven't insulted anyone nearly as much as you normally do.

Well, it's morning.

Oh, you mean in general?

It's true.

Wait, you want an _answer_ as to why I'm lacking my normal amount of clever retorts and derogatory tell-offs?

Sorry.

Don't have one.

Granger pushes through doors I would've assumed to be locked, and continues through various doors and corridors while I trail her absently. I'm not really paying attention to my surroundings; it's too early to be alert and I just woke up.

The next thing I know, Granger's mumbling something and climbing through an odd hole in the wall. This is when I actually look up from my feet.

I lean through, crossing my arms and shrugging.

"The Gryffindor common room?" I assume with a smirk.

"You'll return to the Slytherin pit from which you came, now," she says, putting a hand on a jutting hip. She sends me a glare when I start to climb through, curious.

Her free hand shoots forward to push me out. I tumble awkwardly away, grabbing the hand that so rudely pushed my chest in my quest for balance. I pull her with me, but she only comes halfway out.

"_Oh,_" she huffs, the breath being knocked out of her. "Malfoy!" she hisses in hushed tones.

"What?" I ask, matching her tone, "I just wanted to see -"

"You're not getting in _my_ common room! And it's _not_ the Gryffindor common room, either. It's the dorms and common room shared by the other Head Girls and Boys."

"Wait, as in _all_ the houses' Head Boys and Girls share the _same_ common room?"

"Yes! Unity of -"

"Yeah, yeah, blah, blah, I get it. Can't I just -"

"If you think you're getting in, Ferret, I can assure you, you're wrong.

"Who's Slytherin Head -"

"It doesn't matter, you -"

" - have to stay out, I -"

" - get it. I get that you get it, Malfoy, you don't have to keep -"

" - saying it? I think I do. I mean, I don't want to confuse the little -"

" - _Mudblood?_" she hisses, and it just sounds wrong coming from her mouth. "I hope you know what you're saying. Don't have a thought in the pretty little not-Head-Boy mind, do you Drake?"

"Don't call me that! You're so predictable."

"I don't believe I've ever called you Drake before. And so're you! How else would I have been able to finish all those half-wit sentience of yours?"

I raise an eyebrow.

She narrows her eyes at me, and a second later, I'm darting through her precious portrait hole.

"Hey!" she screeches, grabbing at me, but missing.

I flop down on one of the couches. I cross my ankles casually, placing my hands behind my head.

"This is much better than what's in the Slytherin common room," I say as Granger stomps over to me. "How did that happen?"

"Get out, Malfoy," she seethes with a clenched jaw.

"Maybe later," I shrug one shoulder.

Apparently, her desire to complete her homework is greater than the one telling her to kick me the hell out of her "I'm a big Head Girl now" common room, because she only huffs a groan at me before shuffling to the little work table in the corner of the room.

This leaves me in a bit of a spot, because my homework is still on my mind, nagging at me to get it done, but I still want to aggravate Granger. Eh. I'll do the work at breakfast.

She's scribbling ferociously, and is dripping and flicking ink all over the table. It looks like she's trying to copy what she had on the crinkly and damp-ish paper that originally begun her essay onto a fresh piece of parchment.

I'm snickering at the fact that it looks like Granger's lion mane has grown a size or two with stress, when the breath is being suddenly knocked out of me. I let out an odd croak, and yell, "You're fifty pound orange thing is smothering me!"

"Good Crookshanks." There's more than a hint of amusement in Granger's voice.

"Good God, what do you feed it?" I push the cat to the floor and hastily sit up. The ugly fluffball just hops with surprising ease back onto the couch next to me. "I didn't know you still had the damn cat," I grumble. It rubs against me, purring. I know I'm irresistible, but still. It's getting hair all over the wrinkled clothes I slept in.

"He lived with my parents last year," Granger says simply, not looking up from her work.

The orange thing crawls into my lap.

"Ow! Bad thing! Sharp claws!"

It looks up and licks my face.

I shout, pushing the cat away. "Disgusting."

Granger chuckles. "Found a friend, Crookshanks? Don't know what you see in him, but as long as he's freaking out..."

"Granger! Get this off of me! There are cat hairs all over my _black pants._"

"So go and change, Ferret."

"There is a _thing_ on top of me, in case you haven't noticed!"

"Such a wimp. He's a cat. Push him off. Stand up."

"I don't want it to defile my flawless face with its claws," I say in a fit of vanity.

"You don't need an ego-boost, I see," she grumbles. She looks over her shoulder and calls the thing's name. It jumps off me, and the damn claws pierce through my pants and poke my legs. I wince, standing up.

"I'm leaving," I announce gloomily.

"Finally."

I glare at the back of Granger's head, then leave. I make my way back to the Slytherin dorms, planning on first changing my clothes and making myself look socially acceptable, then getting to the no as important homework. I sigh. Homework.

I absentmindedly nibble on the food in front of me, only half listening as Blaise Zabini talks to me about... well, something. I'm not sure.

All I can focus on is the brown-eyed girl who keeps glancing at me. She's sitting with her back to me, but she's glanced over her shoulder at me at least six times since dinner started. Most of the time with an annoyed look, but hey, she's still looking at me.

I sigh a, "What?" to Blaise, ripping my attention from Granger. I feign a slight bit of interest in what Blaise is say, agitated that the girl doesn't stray from the front of my mind.

I'm still picking at my food with my fork when Blaise says, "Wow, mate. Just, wow."

"What?" I question like I'm being accused.

"I have never, repeat _never,_" Blaise emphasized, "seen you this quiet for so long. You..." He points a finger that is, in fact, very accusing. "You have something up. What is it?"

I answer with a glare and, "I'm sorry, I don't recall signing over the ownership of my business to you."

He laughs. "Touchy today."

"People are irritating creations," I grumble.

"Okay, _who_ is it, then?"

I raise my eyebrows, looking at him. "Excuse me?"

Blaise mirrors my expression, but still has an aggravating smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "With what you just said about people being "irritating creations", you can't expect me not to ask who has you annoyed."

"Right now? You."

"You _know_ what I mean, Drake."

"Don't..." I raise a hand, taking a breath. "Don't call me that." She called me that. She is an idiot. She's... looking at me again. I send her a look that hopefully gets across the "_What. The. Bloody. Hell. Do. You. Keep. Looking. At. Me. For?!" _I'm trying to convey.

Blaise notices the little exchange of scowls between Granger and I.

He leans back in his chair so it's balancing on the two back legs only, smirking at me with a knowing look. My mood is steadily declining, and I can't do anything but try to shoot daggers of highest quality at Blaise with my eyes.

Blaise wiggles his eyebrows teasingly, and I'm beginning to worry just what he's thinking.

"_What?_" I hiss.

"Already feuding with the last of the Golden Trio left at Hogwarts? What is it this time?"

"Her bloody cat is in love with me," I mumble, not being able to think of a better excuse.

"All right, sure. That's _all _ that's got you bothered." I hate his sarcasm.

"I broke into her Head Girl common room." I shrug. "Nice furniture."

"How'd you get in?"

"I was following her, and she knew full well I was, and I was able to get by her. Not all that good at defense when she's not using her wand."

Blaise rolls his eyes. "That's _all?_"

"I dunno! I mean, she was under _my_ lazy tree and expected me to watch her bloody papers when she went to the bloody library." I was starting to rant. "I fell asleep and the wind took her papers a few feet away so she started yelling at me. You don't leave a man under his lazy tree surrounded by homework and expect him_ not_ to fall asleep. And _then_ she starts ranting to me of all people just because I was _there_about all her shitty problems. Of course I fall asleep again, but I wake up in the morning under the tree and with her next to me, also sleeping. She freaked out because she still had undone homework, and I should've woken her up and -" I stop with a groan. "I think she sent that orange thing after me just to spite me."

"And that's it." It's not a question.

"As far as I know," I mumble.

"You have the hots for her, don't you?"

"No!" I shout, and some eyes glance in my direction.

"You do." I want to strangle Zabini until that smug little "you-know-I'm-right-and-you-won't-admit-it" look falls right off his damn face.

"I obviously _don't," _I say, sounding threateningly calm. I stand and walk out of the Great Hall, done with Blaise and his prying, and done with Granger.

** Well, then.**

**I'm itching to get to some actual Dramione stuff, but that doesn't come for at least a few more chapters yet.** **I feel like I have to be so formal here and I don't know why... WHY? I don't have to be... No, I don't... So I'll just... End it... Like, here... And then go look at more Doctor Who stuff. Yup. That might work. **

**Anywho, thanks to anyone who favorites or follows (or both). I have this whole freak out moment (in my head if others are around, but when I'm alone...) whenever I get an email saying I have another follower for this story or someone who's favorited. It's just the most awesomesausebrilliant feeling this the whole frigging UNIVERSE. So thanks for that.**

**I am LOVING writing in Draco's point of view, and I don't know why. It's just FUN. I originally started this in third person and in past tense, but then I wrote that little one shot in Draco's POV and in first person and enjoyed it so much, I decided to go back and change this.**

**I want to say more, but my mind was just drained by some completely horrid math problems I had pretty much no comprehension of, so I'm drawing up blank.**

**SO, I'm just gonna stop talking and let you get on with your life if you haven't already given up on this pathetic little author's note... Heheh.**

***OMG, I feel so awkward* *this is my first time trying to write an author's note-y-thing-y-ma-bob-by, and I feel so weeeeeiiirddddddd***


	3. Chapter 3

The wind is coming so fast, it stings my face. I'm glad I decided to wear my goggles, no matter how odd they look, because it's raining. I'm nearly drenched now. It almost dark out, and I know I'm being stupid. I can hardly see where I'm going, and it's very likely this will end in a crash and a few broken bones. Add to the fact that I'm exhausted, but that I don't want to go to bed because I'm scared of the dreams I might have. Don't ask.

I aim my broom handle up, and pass through a cloud. I shiver, realising two things. One, I'm up too high. Two, I'm probably going to get a cold. Freezing in the rain? Yeah, that's me. I'm still only wearing a white long-sleeved button down shirt and black uniform pants. The shirt sticks to me, soaked completely though. This annoys me a great deal, though, at the moment, anything's liable to annoy me.

I ease myself back down and hover over the goal hoops at one side of the Quidditch field. My hair is plastered to my forehead, falling into my eyes. I push it back with one hand quickly, feeling like I should keep both hands on the broom, it's so slippery.

I'm suddenly plummeting to the earth, and it's exhilarating. A shout of excitement escapes my throat, and I concentrate on the ground at which I am aimed. I start to pull up and I fly level with the ground, speed decreasing drastically. The toes of my shoes brush the grass while I fly slowly, thinking. I know I probably shouldn't be out here anyway, and it's almost curfew. Moving my broom aimlessly up to the goal hoops again, I wonder if, for once, I should actually do the right thing and go in.

The rain pours.

It's coming down rougher than before, and I'm genuinely surprised I haven't slipped off my broom yet. I fly in loops down to the middle of the field and land. I throw my broom to the side and sit down. I fall to my back, letting the rain fall.

"What the bloody hell happened to _you?_"

"What's it to you?" I growl, sloshing through the halls. My shoes are ruined, my pants just done for, and my white shirt is filthy, and, inevitably, will not be worn again. I push a hand reflexively back through my hair, even though it's not in my face at all.

"Malfoy!" She walks quickly beside me. "You're out after hours, and... soaking. Were you outside?"

"No, Granger." I halt my strides, giving a faux-calm look. "I went and jumped in a bath fully-clothed, then rolled around in the Herbology green room." I end up shouting by the end.

"I'm going to have to give you detention," she warns, "unless you can give me a logical answer as to why you're out roaming the halls and dripping past curfew."

"Why are _you _out?" I spit, starting to walk again.

"Head round," she answers simply. "Why were you outside?"

"Because I wanted to be," I say exasperatedly, not looking at her.

"You're lucky you were found by me and not someone else."

"And why is _that?_"

"Because I've decided to only take ten points from Slytherin."

"_Thank you_ for taking points," I mutter sardonically.

"If a teacher, or Filch, or a different Head had found you, you actually _would_ have gotten in more trouble. But I know you, and know you obviously have something going on that you have to get out of your system, which I understand. So I'm gonna accompany you back to your common room, so you _don't _get found by someone else and get in trouble."

"Can you not talk to me?"

"At least _try_ to be appreciative," Granger grumbles. "I'm not ratting you out. If you're going to be so rude, though, maybe I should."

I say nothing, allowing her to walk with me. For some reason, that comment she made about "knowing me" really pisses me off. I'm sure she _thinks_ she knows me, and she probably does. To an extent. She doesn't _really_ know me, though. Granger has less idea than I do of what's going on in my life, and trust me, _I _have no idea.

She doesn't even look at me. This I _do_ appreciate; I'd rather pretend she's not there, seeing as she's a possible source of my initial irritation and/or confusion.

We get to the opening of the Slytherin common room, and Granger merely turns and walks in the direction we came from. With a sigh, I mutter the password and step through to the crowded common room.

I stare up at the canopy that hangs over the top of my bed. I do my best to keep my eyelids from drooping; I don't want to go to sleep. I have no reason to fear my dreams. No recent nightmares (except for the normal) and no recent traumas ( except for, you know, the war). I'm not really afraid of _those _nightmares. They come often, and I'm used to them. They suck. But I'm used to them. I wake up in a cold sweat and out of breath, but... I'm used to it.

I don't know what I'm scared of. Not those ducks with the mustaches, surely.

I shake it off. Scared of dreams? How moronic is that? Shake it off. Go to sleep. Yeah.

My hearts thumps against my chest, and I think I'm hyperventilating. I hold my head in my hands, sitting up. I try to slow my breathing, my fingers twisting in my hair. Flashes of the dream fly through my mind. _The chill from the Dementors reaches me, even though it's only meant for the one on trial. I can't think. I don't want to._

I shake my head. No. Something else. Think of something else.

_He's out of the chained chair. He's gone. I should've been watching, but I couldn't. They'd already said Mum and I could go. But what if they called me back, anyway?_

I groan slowly. Stop. Stop.

_I'm guilty. I'm guilty. I'm guilty._

I throw the sheets practically off of my bed, and fling myself out of it. I grab the first robe I see and pull it on. It's a uniform robe, and not the bathrobe I would've prefer, but at the moment, I just don't care. I slide my feet roughly into a good pair of shoes, not wanting to walk around barefoot, but also not seeing the immediate need for socks.

I just need to get away from my bed, away from the dreams. I walk out of the dorm, then out of the common room.

I wander in the dark around the castle. I have no idea what the time is, but it wouldn't matter, anyway. I don't take my wand out to light my way; I'm not even sure I have my wand with me.

I don't know where I'm going or where I am exactly, but I don't care. The dream won't escape my mind. I just can't... I search my mind, looking for anything to think of but the nightmare. Anything.

Now I see a certain brown-eyed girl. God! Seriously? She's just there. In the front of my mind. I try to shake her out. Damn it.

I suddenly feel like I'm passing through a curtain of ice and water. I scream, surprised. Oh, God, no. I run. I must've gone through a ghost. Damn it. Damn everything. Now I'll get caught.

After running for too long for me, I find myself leaning against a wall next to an unimportant portrait. I'm out of breath from running.

As my sharp breaths slow once again, she finds her way to the front of my mind again.

_Fine, _I think,_ Fine. Anything's better._

I slide down the wall, letting myself think of her and closing my eyes. An image of her from first year pops into my head and I grin. Her hair was even more insane then. I see flashes of her scowling at me, smiling at others, in the Quidditch stands with a nervous look set on her face, probably watching Potter. She's everywhere. Bundled up in Hogsmede, bruised and bloody in the castle at the battle, sprawled on the floor, my aunt Bellatrix hovering over her with a silver dagger. I shudder at the memory. She's under the tree, next to me, holding onto me. My stomach twist and my face heats. She's screaming at me, she's on the Hogwarts Express. She's in class, showing off and scribbling something down like a madwoman. She's wearing a stunning dress, dancing with a bulky man in red. I feel myself frown. She's standing over me, about to hit me. The gold in her brown eyes spark, and she calls me names.

Shaking my head, I scramble up and try to figure out where I am, so I can get back to my dorm.

I'm pacing at the foot of my bed, head pounding. It's four-thirty in the morning, and I've slept, at very most, two hours tonight.

It's still raining. It's slowed to a more steady, softer rain. The sound it makes against the window would normally sooth me, but right now it does nothing for my mood. My headache keeps me from sleep, but I'm restless enough that I wouldn't be sleeping anyway. I stumble down the dark staircase to the common room. None of the lights are on, not one. So I go to the only source of light I see - the window. It's not much light at all, only the glow of the moon and stars, and the little balls of light floating below in the courtyard.

I sit in a chair that's next to the window; a daydreamer must've pulled it aside from a table earlier. I sigh, wishing I could see what it's really like outside. While this window _does_ show a rainy night, it's only a simulation, made by magic. Being in the dungeons, there aren't any real windows in the common room. In my dorm, there is a window, a real one, but it's ground level, and you can't see as much as you can out this one. Even though this view isn't real, it's still comforting. The drops tap gingerly against the glass as they fall, and the sound is nice. At the same time the rain consoles, it also gives me this inexplicable dreary feeling. The pit of my stomach is hard, and my heart beats quickly in my chest. I feel indifferent to the world, and even more unimportant. My vision blurs, and before my mind registers what I'm doing, tears are sliding down my cheeks, and my throat burns. I don't hold back, I just let myself sob silently. And I don't know why.

I wake up a few hours later in that chair, other Slytherins buzzing around me. My eyes are dry, and it hurts to blink. I look lazily around; A first year is lounged on a recliner, reading something and mouthing the words to herself as she goes along. There's a couple in the far corner, snogging and a group of third years look on and roll their eyes. I look over just as Blaise trots down from the dorms. He sees me and his eyebrows shoot up.

"There you are," he mumbles. "You look like hell," he states brusquely, looking me over. "Did you sleep at _all_ last night?"

I'm too drowsy to come up with a witty answer, so I just say, "Maybe." I pull myself to my feet with difficulty, realising I need to get ready. I push past Blaise, and drag myself up to my dorm. There's no one else left in it now; it's seven-thirty after all, and classes start at eight. Aside from the few lingering in the common room, the majority of Slytherins are in the Great Hall, eating breakfast.

I pull out of my trunk my usual daily attire, a set that consists of a fresh and white short-sleeved button-down shirt, black trousers, socks, a tie, and a pair of boxers. I strip entirely, and quickly pull on what I have laid out. I hang my tie around my neck, sure I'll tie it sometime, and grab the robe I wore around the castle the previous night. Slipping into shoes, and shoving my arms through the sleeves of the robe, I shuffle to the bathroom.

Blaise was right. I look like total shit.

There are dark bags beneath my eyes, and there's no surprise there. No sleep does that to a person. My eyes are bloodshot, and still somewhat dry, no doubt from all the crying that took place mere hours ago. My expression is sullen, and I look depressed. I wouldn't be surprised if I am. My hair's sticking up in all directions, so to unsuccessfully fix it, I run my hand under some water, then push that hand back through my hair. It looks even worse. What the hell, I don't care.

I uncharacteristically walk away from the mirror before my hair's perfection. I knot my tie loosely, stepping down the stairs. I check my pocket for my wand and find it where it's supposed to be.

With a sigh, I walk out of the common room (I think Zabini follows me), and to my first class, even though I know I'll be unbearable early.

**Well, this chapter was a bit different.**

**It was very inside Draco's head, I think.**

**The ending sucks, but I really wanted to post, and I didn't want to drag it out any longer.**

**Speaking of wanting to post... **

**I didn't update on Friday because I was only, like, halfway through this. I didn't update on Saturday because there was a storm that knocked out our internet. So here I am today. Finally doing this...**

**As per usual, I feel awkward doing this, and I, once again, feel like I'm being too formal. Oh well. Again.**

**See you all with the next chapter! :D**

**(A little p.s... The reviews I got seriously made my world spin around and I literally screamed into my pillow. Literally. Ran from this computer and to my room to pounce on my pillow and scream into it. They made me SO. FRIGGING. EXCITED. So a kajillion thanks for that. :D )**


	4. Chapter 4

"You look _amazing_ today, Ferret."

"Glad you think so. I put ever so much work into it."

"Really? Wow, I'd love to see what you look like when you put _no_ work into it."

With a grimace, I push Granger's head out of the way and keep walking. Looking offended, she keeps pace with me.

"Now that that's over with," she starts under her breath. Louder, she says, "I'd like to ask you something."

"What?" I ask dryly, wondering if I just nod and wave, she'll leave me be.

"Are you all right?" Her voice is quiet, softer.

I'm taken aback by her sudden switch of tones.

"What?" I ask stupidly again.

"You... don't look well, and I was just..." She sighs. "I'm not just talking about your physical health, either. Is everything okay with yo-"

"I'm fine," I snap.

She nods slowly. "I thought you'd say that." She obviously doesn't believe my claim to be fine. Granger pats my arm sympathetically before turning and leaving. Why does she have to be _so damn irritating?_

With a forced frown, I continue to the library, hoping Granger wasn't headed there as well. I glance behind my shoulder and see her; she's walking the same direction as me on the other side of the hall. Great.

I'm browsing the fiction shelves, needing a distraction. I grab a book randomly, and amble over to a table hidden by bookshelves. I doubt Granger would be able to find me here, so I settle down in one of the two chairs. I push the chair back and rest my feet on the table. I crack open the hardcover and begin to read. None of the words stick in my head, and by the time I finish the second page, I realise just how little I know of what's going on. With a sigh, I flip the page back and reread the first page, trying to concentrate. Focusing harder on the book than normally needed while reading, I manage to finish the first chapter and actually remember what happened. Really, I'm not interested in the story itself, just in the preoccupation it brings.

About a page and a half later, I glance up from the words and start back in surprise, feet falling off the table. She's there! She's in the other seat at the table! What the _hell?!_

"You," I sputter out. "Granger, why -"

"Don't you have homework to be doing?" she asks nonchalantly, flipping a page of the book in her lap.

"Why did you have to sit at _my_ very secluded, I-thought-you-couldn't-find-me table?" I hiss.

"Oh, I'm just an hallucination," she quips, glancing up at me for a moment.

"_What?_" I am seriously confused.

"I'm an imaginary figure your mind has formed because you want to see me."

"No I-" I start to scoff.

"And you're sleep deprived," she interrupts, giving me a "what can you do?" look.

"That's true," I agree in a mumble. "You're not... real?"

"No. If anyone were to pass by right now, all they'd see is you jabbering nonsense to yourself."

"Oh, God," I groan, letting my head fall to the table. When I look up, Granger's gone. "I've gone bloody mad," I say to myself, sounding half-hysterical. Yep. Definitely mad.

I leave the book on the table and stand, going back through the shelves. I make my way to the main area of the room, by the librarian desk. Granger, the real one, I hope, is sitting at a table there, studying. Speaking of which, that's something I should be doing.

"What the hell," I mumble under my breath, going and plopping down at Granger's table. She doesn't look up from what she's writing as I slide a book off the top of her pile and into my hands.

"Double Advanced Ancient Runes," I say, reading the cover, "Volume 12; the History behind the History." I raise a brow.

"Yes," Granger says absently, grabbing the book back, but still not looking up. "I need that, thank you very much."

"You're... _real, _right?" I ask cautiously, reaching out and touching her arm to be sure.

She rolls her eyes. "Just because I find Ancient Runes positively fascinating doesn't mean I'm some unfeeling machine."

That's not what I meant. But it's her, the real Granger. Definitely.

"Right, yes, good." I bob my head once. I slouch in the chair, watching her. Her hair is back in a ponytail, some stray pieces held back with bobby pins. Her bangs fall into her eyes, and her hand keeps flicking up to brush them to the side, only to have them swish right back. Her eyes fly across the page, reading over what she has written down. Her gaze not leaving the page, she pushes the sleeves of her shirt hastily to her elbows, and I note her robe hanging over the back of the chair she's teetering on the edge of. My eyes fall lazily to her ink-splattered hands; one is anxiously tapping its fingers against the table, with the other hovering over a small ink bottle, a quill held tight in her grip.

With a sigh, I lay my head atop my arms on the table. Classes are over for the day, save the spare Astronomy class that needs to be held at night, and all I have left to look forward to is dinner, and then death. Or sleep. Whatever you want to call it.

"Malfoy?"

I lift my head. Her eyes are narrowed slightly, an annoyed frown taking over her lips.

"Tell me," she starts, leaning forward on the table, "must you sleep at _my_ table? Don't you have a bed for that?"

"My bed is cursed with horrors of the past," I think I mumble melodramatically.

By the look on her face, I can guess what I said was pretty much incoherent. Her eyes briefly find their way to the back of her head, and she goes back to her homework. Her eyes flick to me quickly, then back down again.

"Cut the grin," she mutters, "You're creeping me out."

Grin? What grin? I'm not - Oh. I'm grinning. Huh. I didn't mean to... For some reason, this realisation makes my smile widen, growing to a full-on beam. I allow a snort of laughter to escape my mouth. I can't help but notice Granger trying to conceal a grin of her own.

I bury my head in my arms again, shaking with silent laughter, and wondering what the bloody hell is wrong with me.

I'm wearing some of the only Muggle attire I brought to Hogwarts - a pair of regular grey sweatpants and a t-shirt with a logo for some Muggle American sports team. I'm lapping the Quidditch field, trying to sweat off my delirium. As I'm turning by the bases of the goal hoops on one side of the field, I peel off my t-shirt and fling it to the ground in irritation. With a jerk of my head, I flip my sweaty hair out of my eyes.

It's not very long before I'm glistening with sweat, and thoroughly exhausted. I should have expected to be this tired, never slowing to anything lower than a run. I'm now, though, walking extremely slowly, feeling lightheaded. I reach into the deep pocket in my sweatpants and unsheathe my wand in the most dramatic way I can manage in my state of uselessness. I mutter, "Aguamenti," and point my wand at my mouth. The water's more refreshing than I'd hoped for, which makes me rinse my face with it, and just pour some over my head. I splash some across my shoulders and neck, sighing as it trickles down my chest.

This is when I stop. I sit down, cross-legged, and just let the sun soak me throughout. I know if I stay in one place too long in the sun, I'll burn. I don't really tan... Yet another Malfoy trait I detest. I throw my arms over my eyes, falling to my back. The Quidditch field seems to be my safe haven. Makes sense; here I'm actually good at something. I tell myself I'll move in a few minutes, but I'll just rest here for now.

It can't have been more than four minutes before a small voice says, "It's dinnertime."

I jolt up to see disapproving mahogany eyes staring down at me. Granger's face is red, and I'm just about to ask why she decided to stroll out to the Quidditch field for no reason, when she murmurs absently, "It's kind of warm out here, isn't it?"

I run a hand back through my hair, standing and hoping I'm not hallucinating again.

A sudden picture of the girl in front of my jumping on me, kissing me, makes its way through my mind. I blink the odd, and slightly scary, fantasy away, not letting it continue.

"What?" I ask sharply. She's just staring at me, her face twisted oddly. She jumps and looks down, cheeks reddening again.

"Sorry," she says quickly, "Lost in thought..."

I smirk. "The thought being?"

She narrows her eyes, looking up at me again.

"I advise getting dressed," she hisses slowly, looking me over, "then coming to dinner."

"Why'd you come out here to the Quidditch field?" I try asking.

"Seriously," she grumbles as if she hadn't heard me, walking away.

I roll my eyes, jogging over to get my shirt where I left it.

_She walks quietly to me, a slow blush creeping across her cheeks._

_"Draco," she murmurs, peeking through her eyelashes at me. She gently traces my exposed collarbone, not meeting my eyes. She gradually raises onto her toes, then glances up at me. I lean down so my lips graze hers. I hesitate, she doesn't. Her mouth is against mine, and I'm kissing her back._

_"H- Hermione," I stutter, surprised at myself for using her name._

_She shushes me, her lips meeting mine again._

I wake with a start, my face flushed. My heart flutters too quickly, and my stomach twists in unfamiliar ways. _What _in the name of all that's _sane_ did I just _dream _about? I jump again when I see Blaise leaning on one of my bedposts, watching me with that Goddamn smirk on that Goddamn face.

"_Thank you,_" I grumble sleepily to him. "Because the best way to start the day is, of course, a convulsion."

"So," Zabini starts, wigging his eyebrows suspiciously. "How's '_H-Hermione?'_"

My eyes widen for the slightest fraction of a second, narrowing to slits the moment after.

"Shit," I mumble.

"I'll leave you and your fantasy girlfriend alone, Drake," Blaise says, being annoyingly snarky, and turning away.

"Don't call me that!" I shout as he walks away.

I glance blearily at the watch on my bedside table. It's a little after six in the morning, and I am _not_ going back to sleep (safety conditions, don't want to further manipulate my ways of thinking with strangely appealing dreams of the Granger girl). Yawning wide, I slide out of bed.

It's Saturday, and I just don't feel like dressing in uniform. Instead, I break out more Muggle clothes. Pulling on jeans and a long-sleeved t-shirt, I mutter to myself about my jackass of a "friend", and Muggles and comfort.

I walk to the Great Hall, going for an early breakfast. I eat slowly and uncaringly. My disobedient mind keeps playing that dream in my head. Groaning loudly, I push the food away and drop my head to the table, leaving myself in a compromising position I find myself in often lately.

I stand up, deciding to go to my lazy tree. It's a place I assume no one will be; I'll be alone.

But, of course, I'm wrong.

She's there.

Again.

Out of all the students in Hogwarts, _she_ had to be the one to choose _my_ tree as hers.

"Damn it, Granger," I mutter under my breath, making my way slowly to the tree, "Can't I escape you for _one_ day?"

* * *

**Oh my GOD, when was the last time I updated? Seriously, when? It feels like a forever ago. GOSH. (It's been a week and a day.)**

**Okay now, excuse time. Due to school and procrastinating tendencies, and so many distracting things on the internets (thanks so much, Tumblr, for being where I spend the majority of my time), this has not been posted til now. I'm not the fastest typer, and everything for this fanfic is written originally in my notebook, sooo... Well, I'm not terribly slow, so I don't have too much of a real excuse. Except I don't like typing. Nope. Not really. *BUHHLURRRGH* **

**Anyway...**

**I'm not making Draco too melodramatic, am I?**

**He just seems like he'd be like that... Melodramatic.**

***SIGH* I swear I'll TRY to post sooner than I did this time, but with me you don't really know. *hint* Follows, favorites, and reviews freak me out into hyper-writing-and-typing-and-posting-mode, sooo... *innocent shrug***

**SEE YOU IN DE NEXT CHAP-A-TER!**

***cough*sleep-deprived*cough*delirious*cough **


	5. Chapter 5

"Good morrow, dear Granger," I say teasingly.

She looks up at me.

"What do you want, Malfoy?"

"I just thought I'd say," I begin, leaning against the tree, "that you have, once again, found you way under my tree."

She rolls her eyes. "And I just thought I'd say that, once again, I'll sit where I bloody want to."

I merely look at her for a moment. She's donning Muggle attire, no surprise there, as well. Black jeans and a purple blouse. She's barefoot, shoes next to her, and her hair is up in a bun. It's loose, and her fringe is straightened to perfection.

With a sigh, I jump and grab onto a branch.

"What are you _doing?"_

To answer, I swing to catch my feet on a different branch, then finish pulling myself into the tree. I make myself as comfortable as one can be in a tree, and just stand there. The sun's coming up quickly, and soon it seems to slow down.

"Okay," Granger says below. She stands and looks at me. "That's it."

"I'm not coming down!" I shout obstinately.

"Yeah, yeah." Her eyes roll. "I want up."

I raise my eyebrows.

"Don't give me that look. I want up."

"So come up."

"Help. Me," She says slowly, as if I'm stupid.

"Alright, fine."

I move down in the tree a little.

"Jump and hold onto that branch," I say, pointing. She does so. "Okay, so, did you see what I did before?"

"I was purposely not looking," she says cheekily.

I laugh. "Just swing your legs so you can hook that branch with - yeah, like that. And then - yeah. Smart arse, you figured it out."

Grinning, she reaches one hand out so I can help her out of her last awkward position.

"Wow," she mutters, finding a branch she can comfortably stand on. "You're so cold."

"Another Malfoy thing, I guess," is my responding grumble.

We face each other in the tree, but we don't look at the other. I think we're both looking right, so we're even looking opposite directions.

Suddenly, she's chuckling softly. I look over, to see her smiling at me.

"What?"

"Your hair's insane again, today," she explains, reaching forward and starting to mess with my hair, undoubtedly to "fix" it.

"Hey," I mumble, swatting her hands away. "It's supposed to look like -"

Her skeptical eyebrow raise makes me cut short. "It almost looks like _Harry's_ hair."

"_What?!_ Fix it!" I shout dramatically.

She laughs. "Nah."

"Why not?" I cross my arm, and I think I pout.

"You never see a Malfoy look like he just rolled out of bed, even if he _did_ just roll out of bed."

I snort, rolling my eyes.

"It's an interesting look, indeed, to see you wearing jeans and having your hair all messed up. You look like a normal, Muggle guy."

"God forbid," I grumble. "You're making it worse." Maybe I shouldn't have gone with the Muggle clothes...

"Yes," Granger agrees. "Because who the hell wants to look like a normal guy?"

"Not me."

"Oh, come on, it's a good look."

"For a Muggle."

"Yeah. So?"

"I'm not a Muggle, Granger."

She just shakes her head, smiling dryly.

The next moment, my brain's working in hyper-speed. Granger shifts slightly where she stands, but then she's shouting, slipping. I grab for her, getting her upper arm. It slows down the fall, but now we're both going. I try to wrap my arm around a branch, and I get it for a second, but I slip. I see her reaching for a different branch, but missing. And then we flip out of the tree, and I'm on top of her. Suddenly I can't breathe, I think she kneed me in the stomach. I cough, rolling off of her and taking a deep, ragged breath.

"Oww," I groan. "You alright?"

"Yeah," she's groaning as well. "I didn't realise trees were so dangerous."

"Yeah, well, I live on the edge." I mean to sound sardonic, but I don't think I succeed.

"What about you?" she asks quietly. "Are you okay?" She looks over at me. We're both sprawled on our backs under the tree, looking disgruntled.

"Um," I stretch, feeling nothing but sore. "Yeah, I'm good."

I stand, and another not explainable fantasy crawls its way into my mind. And, let's just say it involves Granger, no shirts, and an intense snogging session against the tree. I hit the side of my head aggravatedly, groaning audibly. I try to will the... the _thing_ out of my head, but this one doesn't want to leave. Flashes of it still play in my mind.

"Why are you hitting yourself?" Granger asks suspiciously, frowning.

"Should it matter?"

"Um, all right, then. Look, I'm leaving."

"Whatever," I say flippantly, starting to climb back up into my tree.

Shrugging, Granger calls, "Have a nice rest-of-the-morning! And I'm never climbing a tree again!"

"Ditto," I say loudly enough so she can hear. "But not for the second part!"

With one last eye roll and snicker, she walks away.

I sigh, watching her go. She practically rips her now lopsided, falling-out-of-place bun out, then twist it back up as she walks.

* * *

"Wait, so, why did she dump you?"

"She said she was 'uncomfortable' around me."

"You're a discomfort to us all, Blaise," I mumble.

"Your teasing and general cruelty are no up to par," Blaise observes. "Your turn to talk."

"You're in the middle of a story, though," I argue, not wanting to bring up what has to do with my substandard-ness. "The new girl you're hot for?"

"Her personality matches her hair, and she's a terrific kisser," he says quickly. "Now you."

"I don't know what you think is up," I lie.

He shrugs, pushing open the door to the Great Hall. "Nevermind, then. Just tell me about H-Hermione."

"You'll stop doing that, now. I can't -"

"Control your dreams, I know."

"No, I was _going_ to say, I can't control wandering bastards who watch people in their sleep like a crazy, obsessed stalker."

Laughing, Blaise pulls a seat out and sits down. I lean against the back of the seat next to him, then decide I _will_ sit next to my arse of a friend.

"Seriously, though, what was that dream?"

I give him a "you're not really thinking I'll tell you, right?" glare.

* * *

For the entire next month, I try my hardest to avoid the bush-headed girl that keeps invading my dreams. I manage, somewhat. I, of course, see her in classes (and in the Great Hall, and in the corridors, and other random places), bot other than that, I succeed. Well, only sort of. Really, I just didn't talk to her or get within ten feet of her.

* * *

But now I'm sitting behind her. It's not my fault, really. I already _was_ sitting where I am when she came rushing in right before class started. I'm stuck. Had no time to move.

McGonagal is in the front of the classroom, droning on about something of probably importance that I have no interest in. All I can focus on is the girl in front of me. Her hair is frizzy as ever, but the curls seem somehow neater than before. She leaning back in her chair, close enough to touch. Idly, I rest my chin on my hand, elbow on the desk. Leaning forward, I tug lightly on one of these curls without thinking. I'm just beginning to twirl the lock around my finger, when Granger's head whips around.

"_Malfoy!_" she hisses, obviously trying to keep her voice down. I slowly sit up, under my breath when I feel myself blush. _Blush._

"What?" I whisper.

_"Don't touch my hair."_

_"I wasn't."_

_"Liar."_

_"So what if I did?"_

_"Why did you, anyway?"_

_"Why shouldn't I?"_

_"Because it's my hair!"_

_"Oh, I'm sorry, I thought it had truly been transfigured into a bush and I was curious."_

_"And I'm curious about doing many things to you, Malfoy, but I have restraint."_

_"What _kind_ of things, Granger?"_

_"Do you really want to know?"_

_"No, I just asked for no reason."_

_"What if I don't want to tell you so I can surprise you in the middle of the night?"_

_"You don't know the kind of things I could do to you." _I have a feeling that what _I'm _talking about now is _entirely_ different than what she's talking about. As soon as she mentioned doing something to me, my mind twisted it around to mean something... different.

_"I bet I could do it to you better," _she says, still hushed. Oh, Lord, kill me now.

_"I'd sure like to see you do that." _No lie.

_"And I'd be willing to try." _If only.

_"I bet I could do things you've never even heard of."_

She scoffs. _"As if, Malfoy, I believe I'm more knowledgeable than you in this instance." _Wouldn't that be something?

"Mr. Malfoy and Miss Granger."

Face flushing, Granger flinches to face the front.

"Yes, Professor?" she asks timidly.

"I'm sorry, is my class interrupting your and Mr. Malfoy's conversation?"

"N-no, Professor. It wasn't important, anyway. Sorry."

"I thought it was important enough," I murmur in a low voice for only Granger to hear.

"Mr. Malfoy." McGonagal shoots me her classic stern look. "I advise you to stop saying whatever it is you're saying to make Granger blush -" I can imagine Granger's cheek getting even redder. "- before I am forced to take points."

I nod, containing a sigh.

As before, I'm not paying any attention to McGonagal. That _conversation. _I'm thinking about things I shouldn't. About doing things I shouldn't. I bet if you took away all the baggy cloths and bulky robes, Granger's figure wouldn't _be_ all that bad...

Wait, what?

Shut up, Draco, I tell myself. You are being so frigging stupid. She's not that great looking. And there's that tall barrier you built of her blood status being extremely lower than yours blocking you way_._ Way to what? Her? I will myself to shudder. She actually wouldn't be that bad, I guess. With as much as she talks, I bet she'd be a great kisser (Her lips get so much "exercise").

"Draco." The whisper beside me.

I look to my left and see Granger. Then I look forward. She's still in her seat.

Oh, God.

Not again.

I need some sleep really badly.

I glance back at my hallucination. I feel something on my right nudge me, probably Blaise. I don't care.

Hallucination Granger is wearing a simple tank top and dark wash jean shorts. Very short jean shorts...

I blink.

Go away.

Go away.

Go away.

It does.

But now the image is in my head, wearing me down. Suddenly, her outfit changes to something the real Granger would wear - a short sleeved button down shirt, and a grey uniform skirt. She walks toward me, giving an unspoken message that I interpret as, "I want you, _now." _I hope. Wish. Hell, it's what I'm thinking right now.

I want her.

I want Granger as mine.

Only mine.

...

_What?_

* * *

**Sigh.**

**What's up, peoples?**

**I'm tired...**

**I'm pretty sleep deprived myself...**

**No hallucinations, yet, though...**

**I suppose I should add a disclaimer somewhere in here... So... DISCLAIMER: If I owned Harry Potter, Dramione would be cannon. Dramione would be more than cannon; they would be SUPER cannon. **

**And that is all...**


	6. Chapter 6

_"Stop kissing the air." _

"Mmm?" Why would Granger say that? I'm not kissing the air. "Hermione, what?" i mumble unthinkingly under my breath.

"Drake, mate. You've officially lost it."

"Don't call me that." I'm on the edge of sleep, I now I realise it's Blaise talking.

"Fine, but now everyone in the class probably thinks you're in love with -" My arm reflexively whacks him. I think I hit his face.

_"Ow."_

"What, did someone hit you?"

_"Wake up," _ he spits. "As your friend, I beg you."

"I'm awake," I murmur.

"All the way."

"Go all the way? But I thought..." I trail off, not really comprehending what I'm saying. I'm still only thinking of Granger.

"Drake!"

_"What?" _I start, flinging my head off my desk, sitting up, suddenly aware.

Everyone's staring at me.

"It's a good thing Granger left the room before that. Had to run and get a book for the Professor," Blaise grumbles.

"Twenty points from Slytherin," McGonagal says, though an amused grin plays on her lips.

"What'd I do?" I ask Blaise urgently, completely oblivious to anything I'd done wrong.

Just then, Granger walks into the classroom, carrying a rather large book.

Suddenly, pretty much everyone's snickering.

Bewildered, I look back to Blaise. Even he looks like he's trying to hold in laughter.

_What the bloody hell did I do?_

Also looking confused, Granger walks to give McGonagal her book, then goes back to her desk. On her way back, our eyes lock. She furrows her eyebrows, mouthing, _"What?"_

I shrug, frowning,

She sits, and McGonagal starts her talking again.

* * *

"If someone doesn't tell me what the hell I did in the class, I'm beating the shit out of you tonight in your sleep."

Blaise just laughs. "McGonagal made us take vows of silence before I woke you."

"Did I actually fall _asleep?_"

"Yeah. And you talk in your sleep, just thought I'd say. And kiss, too apparently. Quite an enjoyable show," He finishes, annoying short laughs interrupting his words.

"And what the hell's a _'vow of silence?'_ "

"Mainly to protect you, believe it or not. So no one tells Granger."

"But what about _telling me? I'm _the one who did it! If I'm getting _laughed at, _I'd like to know why!"

"Let's just say you mumbled her _proper _name quite a few times, and you were making kissy faces."

_"God," _I groan. "And why, pray tell, did you not wake me, I dunno, _sooner?"_

"Whoa, no need to get all up in a rage, it was funny."

"What, so, did you draw attention to me?" I ask sardonically. "Because everyone enjoys a laugh."

"Um, actually -"

_"What?" _Yeah, now I'm pretty narked.

"It was funny!" Blaise tries defending himself.

I growl as we walk into the Potions classroom.

_"You are dead shit," _I hiss, glad Zabini and I aren't partners. In Slughorn's random, "I'm picking partners by using slits on a piece of paper in a jar" method, Blaise was paired with Weaslette. I wouldn't be surprised if that's who he's with now. He doesn't give a crap about blood status, never has. So long as the girl's pretty and is good at snogging, he's after her.

I throw my Potions book on the table next to Camille Johnson's. She's some Slytherin I'd not heard of before, and hardly talk to now anyway. As my partner, though, she isn't bad. Smart enough at Potions, doesn't really talk. I normally lead the projects we have; it _is_ my best subject.

She flinches away from me, sensing my bad mood. Tugging at the green beanie hat on her head, she slouches over her own book. Good.

* * *

I'm anxiously turning my Potions book back and forth between my hands. Class is about to end, and I'm thinking of beating Blaise with the book. I'm still furious, and my mood made me screw up our potion (aggravating me further), so now Camille's mad at me, too. Which makes me mad at her. Well, that, and she flicked gecko bone dust at me so it looked like I had bad dandruff. I think I brushed most of it off, but it took a lot not to dump the boiling (and likely acidic because of my mistake) potion over her head.

The moment Slughorn says the word "dismissed", I'm out of my seat, and out the door.

"Wait! Drake!" Blaise.

I'm almost unaware of ripping the book in my hands in half.

_"What?" _ I snarl when he reaches me.

"Whoa, your book."

"I'll get a new one." I throw the remains at him.

"You know if Granger _does_ hear about what happened in class, she'll probably think it's some odd but cruel way of teasing her."

_"So?"_

"Calm down, mate."

I just glare ahead, marching to no place specifically.

_"So," _Blaise continues, "if you actually _do_ like her, which is pretty doubtless by now, you're doing yourself no favors."

"So what do you suggest I do?" I ask slowly.

"Be friendly. And drop the rage. It's not a good look."

"Apparently, my best look is that of a Muggle," I grumble.

"What?"

I shrug. "A while ago on a Saturday, I dressed in Muggle clothes and my hair was all messed up. She said _that_ was a 'good look' for me."

"Then dress like that every weekend!"

"Why?"

"She'll notice. Maybe she thinks you look good like that. Ya know, because she kind of said so."

I consider that in silence.

"Where are you going?"

I shrug my shoulders again.

"What about lunch?"

"Not hungry."

Raising eyebrows, Blaise walks away from me.

Thank God.

* * *

I stand distractedly in front of the bathroom mirror, deliberately not hearing the pounds on the door and the shouts from the other side. I'm wearing a red tank top that I found at the bottom of my trunk and dark blue jeans. I run my hands repeatedly back through my hair, trying to get the right messed up look. Yes. It must be perfectly screwed up. I straighten the shirt after sliding on my lightweight white jacket, then make a kind of girly move - spraying a cloud of cologne in the air, I step through it, resisting the urge to shake my head. Glancing one last time at my reflection, I stride out of the bathroom, letting the impatient delinquents in.

It's Saturday morning, around eight. Feeling quite satisfied with my appearance, my walk to the Great Hall is more of a strut. In an odd burst on confidence, I go straight to the Gryffindor table, grabbing a peach out of a glass bowl. Just my luck (and I mean this literally), Granger is right in front of the peach bowl. Okay, fine, my first instinct was to go to the apples, but Granger's here, not there.

Bringing the peach to my mouth, I wink at Granger, taking the the fact that she also happens to be wearing a red top. To my immense satisfaction, her cheeks turn a light pink, but she says nothing as I walk to the Slytherin table.

I find a seat alone, facing the Gryffindor table and throwing the peach back and forth between my hands. I grin across the room at Granger, and she catches my smile. The look she gives back is confused. I contemplate wither sticking my tongue out or licking my lips. I settle for sticking my tongue out and waving. I see her snort, and, shaking her head, look down. A moment later, she glances back up, smiling slightly. I bite my lip, turning my gaze flirty. She rolls her eyes, but they return to me. She takes her turn sticking her tongue out and waving, copying my earlier actions. I mouth, "Morning." She mouths it back, then goes again to her food. Well. That was a surprisingly pleasant reaction from her.

That's it.

I like Granger, and I'm not afraid to admit it. Therefore, today I make my move. Damn it, she's gonna love me.

* * *

Step one: approach her.

She's sitting under my tree again. I grin. I can't help but winder if she's sitting there on purpose. Hm. My tree. Our tree? Sounds nice. I walk to her, pushing the sleeves of my jacket to my elbows. She looks up and see me walking toward her; she flashes a polite grin. I send back a full-on smile. She blinks, looking back down at the book in her lap. Always with the books.

I lean against the tree, looking down at what she's reading. Shakespeare, I recognize. His sonnets.

Step two: talk to her.

"Hello, Granger," I murmur.

"Hello." she doesn't look up from her book.

I sit next to her, starting to read to myself. Still staring at the pages, Granger says, "You finished with the page, Drake? I'm about to turn it."

"Mmhm." I nod. Leaning closer, I whisper in her ear, "And don't call me that."

I smirk when she blushes. Clearing her throat, she says quickly, "Yes, good, fine." She flips the page harshly.

Step three: flirt (or do something similar).

Her fringe is clipped back, but other than that, her hair is loose around her shoulders. I pick a curl and play with it, ignoring the book now.

"What are you doing, Malfoy?" she asks, still not looking at me.

"Mm? Nothing." I twirl the lock in my fingers. "Your hair smells nice."

"The hell, Draco?"

Why Draco suddenly? Eh, I like it.

"Seriously, Malfoy, what?"

"What, what?"

She finally looks at me. Then her hand cups my cheeks, and her lips are brushing against mine. It's soft and barely anything, but it shocks the shit out of me. She pulls back slightly, then presses her lips back to mine three short times before standing with her Shakespeare book under her arm. She smirks, sticking her tongue out at me teasingly, then walks away, leaving me frozen and wide eyed. Taking a deep breath, I push a hand back through my hair, breathing, _"Holy shit." _Why is my heart beating so fast? And, oh, God, my cheeks are _burning. _That did _not_ flipping go as planned. Step four would've been kiss her, and five, get her to kiss me back. Instead, she freaks me out by kissing _me, _and leaving my brain in a state of numbness.

And did she do that just to get me to stop? Or does she actually like me? I mean, she has been smiling at me and things, but still... Now I'm confused. Now I'm very, very confused.

She kissed me. Oh my God, she kissed me.

* * *

He laughs. I'm sure I look close to horrified, and so he laughs.

"What?" he asks. "You look like you just saw your mother snogging a goblin."

"Ew. Thanks. And no."

"Then what is it? You seriously look like a madman."

"She -" I glance self-consciously over my shoulder. "She... Mate, she kissed me!"

Blaise's features twist to an amused and somewhat unbelieving expression, and he smiles suspiciously. "Granger?"

"Yeah, she -"

"And, wait, wait, _she_ kissed _you_ and not the other way around?"

_"Yes," _I whisper, still kind of freaked.

He laughs. Again. "What _kind_ of kiss was it, eh?"

"What does that mean?"

"Even get to tongue?"

"No," I huff. "It was really... almost not there. It was really... soft. And gentle, and -"

"Nice job, mate. I bet you did nothing but stand there paralyzed as _she_ _kissed you_."

"I didn't," I grumble. "It was kind of out of no where, you know!"

"So wha'cho gonna do next?"

"Huh?"

"I bet you'll try to snog her, and she'll hit you and be all, 'Malfoy! I only kissed you before to shut you up, bloody ferrret!' " He laughed at his own impression, not realising the effect that statement has on me. I'm worried that's the case already, I don't need an external source suggesting that she does still loathe me. Zabini says something else, still laughing. I ignore him, glaring ahead. There she is. I want to shout at her, tell her she's driving me insane. She's at the other end of the hall; I want to walk closer, but Blaise is doubled over in laughter at something he said. I go slowly on without him. She's talking to that Wealette, and she Weasel's laughing at Granger. Granger's blushing, scowling at Wealette, and the ginger's giggling through her hands. Why does this seem like a girly version of what just happened between Blaise and I? I can only hope... Granger stares at her feet, and Wealette mutters something, the look on her face suggestive, and Granger's cheeks redden even further.

"Wait, Drake!"

I, myself, pay no mind to Blaise calling after me. On the other hand, Granger's head snaps up, and she stares in my direction. She catches sight of me, and I grin. She sticks her tongue out, but smiles after. Is this a new thing with her or something? I hope it is, it's quite cute. I walk past her, and I hear she Weasel call, "Hi-i-i-i-i-i-i, Drakey!"

Granger mutters a "shut up" to her, and I laugh.

* * *

**HEYYYYYYYY!**

**Hi! Hi! **

**Okay, so the ending's basically crap (I had no idea how to finish off this chapter... Obviously), but isn't this cool? I last updated, like, two days ago! And I'm updating already! Isn't this weird?**

**So what I'm thinking right now is, "MYGOSHFINALLYSOMEDRAMIONE". But, really, it's your guys' thoughts that matter. This, their first kiss, that is, kinda tied in with the little "Insanity?" OneShot I have under Dramione, Drabble Form... I did that on purpose...**

**Anyway, hai. Again. I'm bored, so this is basically meaningless; I could type forever on things that mean nothing right here, you know? That's kinda what I'm doing... I suggest you stop reading this A/N and I stop writing it. Agreed? *hand shake* Agreed. **

**See you in the next chapter!**


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